


The 10th Shade: Coffee Shop

by InThePalmOfMyHand



Series: 50 Shades of Gay [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee Shops, First Meetings, Gross Fancy Coffee, M/M, Oneshot, stable career, the barista probably did it on purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 22:21:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19710640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InThePalmOfMyHand/pseuds/InThePalmOfMyHand





	The 10th Shade: Coffee Shop

The 10th Shade

Monday mornings, the bane of Dean Winchester’s existence. And there was, of course, only one thing that helped: coffee. He was drinking a lot of that lately. It wasn’t his fault though! Well, not entirely.

Pushing open the door to the coffee shop, Dean walked right up to the counter. He knew what he wanted. He always got the same thing, since the day he stumbled upon the shop on a quiet street between home and work. The person in front of him, it seemed, was not quite so certain.

“What does that word mean again?” the man asked. 

Dean peaked around the man to see as the barista looked up at the menu board behind her. “Macchiato?”

“Um, no the other one. Right below that one.”

She checked again. “Oh, mocha?” 

The man frowed. “Oh, is that how you say it? I always thought it was ‘matcha,’” he said slowly.

“No, matcha is tea,” the barista said, as patiently as she can this early in the morning. “Mocha is espresso with chocolate and milk.”

“I thought that was a latte.”

“That’s just espresso with milk.”

“Wait, then what’s macchiato?” the man asked, eyes wide.

“It’s espresso with… a little bit of milk.”

The man squinted. “And… just be certain…. Espresso just means coffee right?”

“Sir, I have a line.” The barista flashed an especially fake smile. “Can I get you something now or should I give you a little time to...research a bit more?”

The man nodded and sheepishly stepped aside, his hands idly fiddling with the buttons on his jacket.

“I can help who’s next.” The barista signaled Dean forward.

“I’m terribly sorry, I just don’t understand the coffee words,” he said to Dean, motioning him to go ahead.

Dean stepped up quickly, watching as the man pulled out his phone, no doubt to research what all these words meant. He pretended to look at the menu briefly before saying what he says every morning.

“I’d like uhh the usual, I guess.”

“Sure thing gorgeous,” the barista says as she rings him out.

Dean was glad that the workers here always remember his order, mostly because he had forgotten the name of it at this point. Like the guy who had been in front of him, Dean didn’t really understand the fancy “coffee words.” Whatever it was, it tasted good. That was what Dean came here for after all, not that he would tell anyone that he came to the little shop as often as he did. This was his secret personal time to relax. ‘Self-care’ time with the Good Stuff. 

Dean had almost finished his coffee by the time the other guy seemed to finish ‘researching’ and stepped back up to the counter to order. Dean chuckled to himself, allowing himself to watch the exchange a little longer before he finished his coffee and left. 

***

A few days later, Dean found himself back in the little coffee shop. Not that he was surprised, of course. He  _ was _ surprised to find, however, that the say guy from before was in front of him in line again. Even better, it sounded like he knew what he wanted...kind of. Nonetheless, as soon as he entered, the man in front of Dean turned around.

“Please, after you,” the stranger said, nodding ahead of himself towards the counter. 

Dean nodded back and stepped around him. “The usual again,” he said to the barista, hitting her with a smile and a wink.

The barista smiled back and processed his payment. “It’ll be just a second, you can go ahead and pick a seat,” she told him. 

Dean sat close to the counter, not intending to stay long, and he heard the barista struggling with the same man over drink sizes.

“Could I have a grande uhh—-” the man tried.

“We actually don’t use Starbucks sizes here. Do you want a large or something?”

“No, maybe just a tall is okay then.”

“Is that….also large?” the barista asked suspiciously. 

“Um, well… no actually—”

“Sir, please. What size would you like?”

He sighed. “A medium, please.”

Dean snickered from his chair. “Rough time?”

The man looked up, startled. “Just led astray by the internet. Um, have we met?”

Dean nodded. “Sort of. I ran into a few days ago when you were trying to figure out the coffee words, remember? I’m Dean.”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that twice. My name is Castiel.” He held out his hand. “Have you been coming here long?”

Dean shook his hand. “I’ve been coming here for a while. Basically ever since I started my new job. I got a promotion a while ago and it came with a change in scenery.” He laughed. “I stumbled in here at 5 in the morning looking for something quick before work to keep me alive all day after I didn't sleep the whole night. The amount of paperwork took me a bit to get used to, especially running on no sleep. I’ve got the hang of it now though, and I’ve managed to fit this place into my routine every day.”

“That’s great,” Castiel marveled. “I just found this place pretty recently, maybe late last week? I’m enjoying it so far.” He held up his phone. “Not to mention I’m learning a lot.”

Dean laughs, a genuine sound that was welcome in the quiet atmosphere of the coffee shop this early in the morning. The barista set his cup on the counter and smiled at him. Dean stood excitedly to grab it. Waving it in his hand as a farewell to the coffee-challenged man, Dean left the coffee shop, sipping his drink happily on his way to work.

***

The days passed and Dean found himself inside the coffee shop on the morning of every one of them. On most days, he would see the same guy, but never got too involved. The contact was minimal, but Dean still found himself looking forward to the interactions every morning, and the times when Castiel wasn’t in the little shop put him in a mood for the rest of the day. It wasn't a big deal or anything: they would greet each other and chat in line, the drink their coffees at separate tables and leave at different times. They followed the same routine every single time without fail.

Until one morning.

***

“Dean!”

The barista’s call caught Dean off guard and made him jump a little. He had zoned out in a seat a little further from the counter than usual, his exhaustion slowing him down. He didn’t know how she had the energy so early on a Saturday morning, but he supposed that she had to get his attention somehow. He trudged up to the counter and collected his drink, grumbling a slow ‘thanks’ to the barista. The barista didn’t hear him, but turned back to the counter as he was starting to leave.

“Castiel!”

Dean  _ really _ jumped this time, being closer to the practiced yell. Hoping no one saw, he shuffled back to his table and hunched over it, struggling to keep his eyes open. He took a cautious sip of coffee—

—and recoiled. This was  _ not _ what he ordered. He looked up and watched as Castiel put his cup to his lips and then had a similar reaction. Their eyes meet and Castiel’s eyes narrow just barely. He took another sip and shook his head. Castiel got up and walked across the narrow seating area to Dean as the latter stared dumbly. 

“I think our orders may have gotten mixed up,” Castiel said tentatively. “Is this one yours?”

“I don’t know, what’s it taste like?” Dean asked, gruffer than he’d meant to. 

“Well.” Castiel looked at the cup. “I can’t tell what these letters mean, but it’s sweet. Really sweet.” 

“Oh yeah, probably,” Dean agreed, rubbing his neck. “That explains why yours tastes like dirt then.” 

“Excuse me for liking the natural taste of coffee,” Castiel laughed. “May I?” He gestured towards the seat across from Dean. When Dean nodded in reply, he took the seat and pushed the cup he’d been given across the table to Dean. Dean nodded again, absently, and switched drinks with him. 

Castiel laughed at Dean’s face as he takes a drink of the anticipated coffee, but waved away the question Dean demanded answers for. Dean lets it slide though, based solely on the man’s looks. He’d found himself checking the guy out as he stood at the counter, confused—not that he would ever say anything about it. It’s hard to fit “you look like a snack today...and every day” into a casual morning conversation. 

“So what kind of job do you do anyway, Cas,” Dean coughed. 

Castiel looked shocked at the nickname but didn’t say anything aloud. “Oh, nothing fancy. It’s a regular nine-to-five office job. It pays well enough for the cost of living in this area, though, hence the new desire to learn about these fancy types of coffee.” He held up his cup proudly and Dean snickered.

“I wouldn’t call that one ‘fancy’ but you’ve got the spirit,” he said. 

Castiel gazed at him, the hint of a smile on his eyes causing little crinkles around the sparkling blue eyes that Dean couldn’t stop looking at. He reminded himself to breathe.

“Yeah, yep,” he said, totally not awkward at all. “I work in mechanics, so it’s just boring cars and stuff. I love it though, and the raise that came with my promotion was a sweet bonus too.” He took a sip of his drink. “Of course, I only work weekdays, so I’m out here for no reason.”

Castiel smiled gently over his cup. “We both know why we’re here.” 

Dean’s blood froze. “W-we do?”

“Coffee, of course. We both love coffee!”

Dean let loose a shuddery laugh. “Oh, y-yeah. The coffee.” He took another drink, larger this time so he didn’t have to say anything else.

“I have to admit, it is nice seeing you here this morning though,” Castiel confessed. “I didn’t expect to catch you on a weekend. I came anyway, though, just in case. Plus, I had to learn my coffee word of the day. Do you know what ‘cold brew’ is, Dean?” He stared expectantly at Dean, blue eyes wide.

Dean felt like he got punched in the chest, but in a good way—if there was a good way to be punched. “Uh, yeah it’s… yeah.”

Castiel’s eyes crinkled and his face melted into a smile.

“Hey,” Dean said, his face taut, “I don’t know a whole lot, but...if you wanted… I could teach you more about coffee.”

“You mean here?”

Dean blushed slightly. “I mean, yeah. Only if you wanted. Or we could get dinner or something? Geez Cas.”

“You know,” Castiel thought for a moment. “I think I’d like that.”

Dean smiled, relieved. “G-great, that’s great!” He grabbed a napkin and started scribbling on it with a pen from his pocket. “Whenever you’re free just…..give me a ring or something, yeah?”

“Are you free now, Dean? Or this afternoon?” Castiel shuffled in his seat. “I’d like to spend more time with you than just seeing you at a coffee shop.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “No, yeah, of course! We can talk about it on the way, what do you say?”

“On the way...where?” Castiel squinted.

Dean stood up and shrugged, a smile stuck on his face. “Anywhere but here. C’mon, Cas!” He took Castiel’s hand and pulled him up. Castiel stood up uncertainly but, at Dean’s lead, followed him out the door.

The barista smiled as she watched them leave, at the same time for once.

-END-


End file.
